


Arcadia

by arcana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - X-Files, Fake Marriage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcana/pseuds/arcana
Summary: Undercover. Lance tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. He’s only done it once before, a little bit into his time working with Shiro, alone. Lance had hated it. He was away for what felt like the longest time of his life. His family had only known bare minimum details, and he hadn’t been able to see or hear from any of them until he resurfaced in the real world. They had worried for his health and wellbeing, and Lance hadn’t been able to tell them anything.“I’ll do it,” he says in a resigned tone, which isn’t entirely different from what he’s feeling. He owes Shiro so much, though, and if it makes him feel better he can explain this to his slightly-panicked brain as his duty to the citizens of the country. “But you owe me, buddy.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> dedicating this one to blaine! thanks for putting up w/ me buddy <3

Lance walks into the office and knows immediately that his partner has found something _big_.

He can see it in a couple of ways: the office is more cluttered than usual, the disposable coffee cups littering the area around the trashcan, but namely, it’s Shiro. The man is _frowning,_ the scar across his nose dipping at the edges with the pull of his mouth. He’s a generally polite person, always has a little smile on his face to make people more comfortable around him despite his stature and the fact that he looks like he has literally been to hell and back. This isn’t one of his silly little pouts he puts on when Lance pokes holes in his insane theories, or the slight downward curve of his mouth when he’s displeased with someone and trying not show it. No, this is an honest frown, one set deep in his expression, clearly showcasing worry that he usually tries to keep well-hidden under his features.

Lance approaches him slowly. He doesn’t want to disturb the work Shiro has likely stayed up all night going over, but if he has gathered anything over these past couple years working with him, it’s that when Shiro gets absorbed in something, he tends to forget most everything else.

“Morning,” Lance says, making his way around the side of the desk and putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, leaning in to try to catch a glimpse of what he’s reading. “What do you have?”

“Do you remember my brother, Keith?” Shiro says, forgoing any kind of greeting, and that’s when Lance can really tell how serious it is. He knows Shiro would do anything for his brother.

“Of course,” Lance replies slowly. “Is everything okay?”

Shiro hums. “Been up all night trying to figure that out,” he sighs. “Take a look at this.”

Getting up to hand Lance the paper he was holding, Shiro leans back and stretches his arms over his head, probably moving for the first time in a couple of hours. Lance has to force himself not to let his eyes linger and try to catch a glimpse of the way his shirt may ride up slightly.

It takes Lance a minute to decipher what he’s looking at, but soon he’s able to identify it as one of Keith’s trademark messages to his brother. Honestly, it just looks like a regular letter to Lance, but Shiro’s gotten a couple of these before, and they’ve been invaluable to certain parts of their investigations. Keith, having none of the red tape that the FBI comes with but all of the knowledge that comes from being a former agent himself, is one of his and Shiro’s most important resources; he’s a natural at police work, and Lance regrets not having the chance to work with him in person before he got booted from the bureau for reasons Lance did not have the clearance to know. He’s never met the guy, but the way he gathers information and connects the dots is second none. Well, besides Lance himself.

Anyway, the letter is obviously in code, and judging by the slightly smudged notes in the margins and underlining of certain parts of sentences, Shiro has been here for a while trying to figure out what the hell it could all mean.

“I’ve already taken it to the Assistant Director,” Shiro mentions, leaning back on the desk, holding his hands in front of him. “She thinks it could be serious. Says she, quote, ‘knows the way Keith is,’ and that he seems a lot more frantic here than in any of his previous letters.” Lance flicks his eyes up and back to Shiro, who’s biting his lip, and frowns. He doesn’t like seeing Shiro worried like this.

Lance says, “You can’t call him?” to which Shiro snorts, a little derisively.

“You know I can’t, Lance. If he doesn’t feel safe enough to contact me by phone, there’s no way I’m endangering him by trying to do the same.” Lance hums, turning his attention back to scanning the page, and Shiro rubs his fists over his eyes. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to help.”

“Don’t be,” Lance waves him off, going to take a seat at the chair Shiro had vacated. He throws his feet upon the desk next to where Shiro is standing. “It was a stupid suggestion. Do you know where he is, at least? We could go find him.” It’s the least they could do for him, Lance thinks, with how much he’s helped them.

Plus, if he’s being honest, Lance kind of wants to meet the guy in person. For one, A.D. Allura always refused to say much about him, or even why he got kicked out, other than the fact that she was vehemently against it. All Lance knows about Keith is that his theories are _out there,_ even worse than Shiro’s sometimes, and his partner is usually the one to throw out the word “alien” whenever any weird file came across their desk.

That, and they were apparently the same age. Probably would have met, too, if Lance had decided to join the bureau sooner. Instead, he was off thinking he wanted to be a doctor and trying to get his medical license. Not that the knowledge hasn’t helped him immensely in his time as an FBI agent, especially in his time working with Shiro, but he honestly has no idea why he used to think he wanted to cut people open for a living.

For two, Keith is Shiro’s _brother_. Keith probably knew Lance’s partner better than anyone in the world, and also undoubtedly had information about the man that would feed Lance’s poor, deeply enamoured heart. Sometimes Lance swore he felt like he was back in high school swooning over his favourite actor’s smile and laugh and wishing he could bring himself to _do_ something about it. He had long gotten over the fact that nothing was likely to happen on that front, though, and yet he had come to terms with the permanence of his crush, too. He’s naturally flirty, which is great because Shiro had gotten used to the pet names and bad lines thrown his way years back when Lance was less cynical about his love life. Now, the ridiculous flirting was much more a friendly thing, and Lance made sure to do it with his other friends, too, so as not to make Shiro uncomfortable. In hindsight, it’s probably the most counterproductive thing Lance has ever done in his life, but he digresses. Despite his slim chances, he’d be damned if he didn’t still want to hear about how Shiro was before Lance came to know him.

“That’s what I was thinking, too…” Shiro trails off, voice bringing him back to the present.

Lance glances over at him. “Sounds like there’s more to that statement.”

Shiro sighs. “I’m glad you’re sitting down. You’re not going to like it.”

Lance cracks a smile. “Shiro,” he drawls, “you know I’d do anything for you.” He hears Shiro exhale a laugh through his nose, but was that a slight blush he saw as the man rolled his eyes? He smiles wider. “Give me your worst, baby.”

Letting out a breath, Shiro dives right in. “It’s looking like it might require going undercover,” he says, and Lance immediately grimaces, hoping he’s better at controlling his expression than he thinks he is and that Shiro doesn’t catch it.

He does.

“I would never ask you to join me,” Shiro hurries to finish, “I know how important family is to you, and we both know how demanding an uncover job would be. It wouldn’t be an issue to do this by myself, and having you on support but in the loop would probably help a lot. It’s just,” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you about it first, Lance. See how you would feel.”

Undercover. Lance tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. He’s only done it once before, a little bit into his time working with Shiro, alone. Lance had _hated_ it. He was away for what felt like the longest time of his life. His family had only known bare minimum details, and he hadn’t been able to see or hear from any of them until he resurfaced in the real world. They had worried for his health and wellbeing, and Lance hadn’t been able to tell them _anything_. They had caught the bad guy, yeah, but it had taken a real toll on him and his mental health, in the end. He’d come back and it had taken forever to readjust back into his old life.

“You can think about it,” Shiro says softly from his place at the desk, and Lance realizes that if he were to do this, he’d at least have a partner. His family knew Shiro, or at least knew about him, and even if he wasn’t their favourite for taking Lance away from them with work stuff all the time, they at least knew he could take of Lance, if Lance failed to do so himself. “Just know I have to send Allura my decision by noon so they can start arranging things.”

Still not taking his eyes off the ceiling, Lance asks, “How soon would it start?”

Shiro pursed his lips. “I’m pushing for two days,” is all he says.

Lance breathes slowly through his nose. “Details?” he asks.

There’s a small silence, like Shiro hadn’t been expecting Lance to even consider it. He starts slowly, “There have been a couple of disappearances at a housing complex Keith’s been keeping tabs on over the last couple years. Says it’s always been a weird place, but recently the residents have been increasingly antsy and some of them seem to have up and vanished.”

“Kidnappings?” Lance hopes, picking his head up to look at Shiro, who snorts.

“In all the years we’ve worked together, when has any case we’ve done been as simple ‘kidnappings’?”

“A man can dream,” Lance sighs, dropping his head back down, but continues. “What did our dear friend Keith pull out of his magic hat this time?”

Despite Lance just kind of insulting his little brother, Shiro smiles at him. “Magically re-animated golem on a murderous rampage.”

Lance can’t help but laugh, even though that is definitely one of the weirder things to leave that man’s mouth. “Gollum? Like, Lord of the Rings, ‘my precious’, kind of deal?”

“No,” Shiro shakes his head, trying to duck a little to hide his widening smile. Lance’s heart swoops in his chest and for the second time that morning he has to tamp down on his wishful thinking. “Not Gollum, g-o-l-e-m. Mostly Jewish folklore, along with some others. Supposed to obey one master, do whatever they say, that sort of thing. Keith seems to think one of the residents managed to summon one and has become drunk on the power of it, or something.”

“Seems to?” Lance asks, raising his eyebrows. “You don’t believe him?”

Shiro’s smile turns wry. “Not this time, no.”

All but jumping out of his chair, Lance grabs for Shiro’s shoulders and looks him straight in the eye. “Please, please tell me the next words out of your mouth aren’t going to be bigfoot or, like, Slenderman.”

“Alright,” Shiro says, keeping his eyes on Lance. “I won’t tell you.”

It takes a second to register, but when it does Lance throws his arms in the air and groans. “Shiro! We were so close!”

Shiro stands laughing in front of him. “You asked!”

“For once, all I want is a nice, normal kidnapping case,” Lance pouts. “Why do we always manage to get the weird ones?”

“I ask for them specifically to piss you off.” Shiro smiles, using a hand to ruffle Lance’s hair, who yelps. “In all seriousness, though, I do think we might be looking at a serial haunting case, possibly the murderous kind.”

“‘In all seriousness,’” Lance mutters, already trying to figure out how on Earth he’d be able to word that in an official report if Shiro does end up being right.

Shiro continues, shuffling around to find a paper and pointing to an image so Lance can inspect it further, “The only people disappearing are residents who move into this specific house.”

“Looks fancy.” He’s still not sure about the whole undercover thing, but…

“It is,” his partner agrees. “Supposedly, it’s one of the top ranked gated communities in the country, or something like that. Safe,” adds Shiro, almost as an afterthought.

“Except we’re going there to investigate a string of possible murders?” He’s swinging back and forth between decisions, Lance realizes. He does want to be of help to Shiro, but he has boundaries, too, and he’s not sure he’s willing to cross them.

“Except for that, yeah.” When Lance looks at him again, Shiro’s back to biting his bottom lip. Lance’s resolve is quickly breaking. “Listen,” Shiro starts, “Lance, I know I said I’d be fine with you as support, and that’s not entirely false, but we’ve worked side by side for so many years now, and it’s Keith, and you could back out anytime if you–”

Snorting, Lance interrupts with, “No, I couldn’t,” but he does appreciate the sentiment.

With a sheepish look, Shiro purses his lips for a silent moment. “I know,” he eventually says, “I just… I really could use your help.” And damn if that didn’t make Lance’s heart want to beat out of his chest.

Lance looks at his partner for a second, takes in his stiff shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the words he just said, and feels his reservations about this assignment slip through his fingers.

“I’ll do it,” he says in a resigned tone, which isn’t entirely different from what he’s feeling. He owes Shiro so much, though, and if it makes him feel better he can explain this to his slightly-panicked brain as his duty to the citizens of the country. “But you owe me, buddy.”

The look on Shiro’s face almost makes the dread he knows will fill him later disappear. “Really?” When Lance nods, Shiro takes it upon himself to wrap his arms around Lance and _squeeze._ Lance closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it for a second. “ _Thank you,_ ” Shiro says, practically into his ear, and that’s Lance’s cue to extricate himself from the situation before he goes and does something stupid.

Shiro clears his throat when they pull away from each other. “Sorry,” he says, sounding at a loss. “I’m really worried about Keith.”

“No worries, man,” Lance soothes, patting the man’s shoulder. “We should probably let Allura know, huh?”

If Shiro’s smile is a little shaky, Lance decides not to mention it. “Definitely,” his partner says, starting to lead them to the door. “I wonder what our cover story will be.”

\------------------------

“You want us to pretend to be _what?_ ”

In front of them, Allura closes her eyes and folds her hands in front of her. She’s far too used to Lance’s outbursts. “It will be much easier for the two of you to investigate this complex if you’re living in the same place, not to mention less expensive for the bureau,” she explains. “Plus, the community takes much more kindly to married couples than bachelors, anyway.”

“But–” Lance tries to protest, but she raises a hand to cut him off.

“I’m sure any significant other you may have will understand that your pretend-marriage to Shirogane is for the greater good, Sanchez,” Allura says with an amused sort of smile playing at her lips, and Lance would groan out loud if it wasn’t considered “unprofessional” to do so. As his superior, she’d only let him get away with so much.

Besides, he _knows_ she knows that’s not the problem here, like Lance could even have a significant other with Shiro around. Lance had once, very accidentally, confided in her about his crush on his partner during a holiday party where they had both had a little too much to drink, and though she doesn’t try to push them together, she definitely doesn’t let Lance live it down. He immediately begins to wonder if this is just a thinly veiled plan for her to play matchmaker with her two favourite agents.

Before he can get another word in, the Assistant Director turns her attention to his partner. “Shirogane, do you have any issues with the plan, as we’ve discussed it?”

Lance half-dreads Shiro raising any objections as he had just tried to do; it would be a real blow to ego.

“If this is what you think is best,” Shiro says, sort of cryptically. “We leave in two days, then?”

Allura nods. “Nine a.m., sharp.”

With a satisfied little smile on his face, Shiro nods back. “Perfect,” he says. “Then we have some homework to do. Lance?”

And Lance knows that’s his signal to follow him out of their superior’s office, to go help him with research, to see if maybe he can dig up some information that doesn’t point to a poltergeist, but Lance hesitates. “Uh,” he tries, looking down and scratching at the side of his arm. “Can you give me a minute to talk to the Assistant Director? I have to ask her about a, uh, a report I submitted.”

Though he does throw his partner a confused look, Shiro doesn’t question him. “Sure. See you back in the office?” Lance nods, and he leaves.

The minute the door closes, Lance whirls on Allura. “ _Marriage?_ ”

Infuriatingly, Allura just calmly smiles at him. “Contrary to what you may believe, Sanchez, the committee came up with this story, not me.”

“Oh, sure!” Lance says, throwing his hands up in the air. “This has nothing at all to do with your weird obsession with my love life.”

“Only so you’ll stop flirting with me, Agent.”

“I haven’t flirted with you in years!”

“Because you’ve been focusing all your attention on your partner!” she exclaims on a laugh. “In all seriousness, I had nothing to do with this decision. You can even ask Coran.” Lance gives her another skeptical look; Coran will go along with most anything his boss says. She ignores him. “According to Kogane, the community you two will be infiltrating is full of very paranoid, very suspicious people. If we give them reason enough, some may go digging and find themselves in over their heads. Most of the residents are married couples, so we thought it only appropriate that you two play the part, fit in. When in Rome, so to speak.”

Sighing, Lance contemplates this. What she’s saying makes sense, and if it were under a different set of circumstances he would have been more inclined to believe her. He’s just… not sure how he’s going to be able to act all couple-y with Shiro without falling deeper into his self-dug rabbit hole.

“You’ll be okay, Lance,” she interrupts his train of thought with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Who knows,” she adds, “maybe something good will come out of this.”

His laugh comes out a little more self-deprecating than he intended. “It’s weird not being the optimist, for once.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance thinks he sees Allura’s smile soften. “We’ve both got work to do,” she says, patting him on the back and leading him toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything before you two leave, yes?”

Giving the least strained, slightly fake smile he can manage and a two fingered salute, Lance says, “Sure thing,” and makes his way back downstairs to where he knows Shiro will be doing his utmost to prepare for the upcoming weeks.

 

Opening the door, Lance sees almost exactly what he walked in on this morning; Shiro’s sitting at the desk again, pouring over a report, or something. This time, though, his partner graces him with a “Hey,” for greeting. Lance hums back, taking a seat at the desk as well and picking up a paper or two to try and see what information Shiro has compiled so far.

They sit in silence for a while, each trying to make sense of what little Keith had managed to supply them with, along with the police reports and whatever else they had documented from the three previous disappearances.

Lance opens his mouth and starts to say, “Do you really think–” just as Shiro says, “Sorry about–” and they both shut up so the other can speak. When neither of them takes the chance, Lance laughs a little and tells Shiro to go on.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Shiro begins, and Lance cocks his head at the other man.

“For what?”

Shiro rubs at the back of his neck. “I didn’t know about this whole situation. I wouldn’t have pushed if I had known this is what they were thinking for a cover story.”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t bother me, Shiro.”

“You sure?” Shiro asks. “You didn’t just stay behind in Allura’s office to ask her to change the story?”

“No!” Lance answers incredulously, and technically, it’s true. Shiro purses his lips, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Shiro, I promise, I’m not upset or anything. Why would you think I am?”

Pausing before his next words, it takes Shiro a while to decide whether or not they’re worth saying. “It’s just,” he closes his eyes like he’s frustrated, then makes himself look at Lance. “I’m not exactly ‘bring home to your parents’ material, am I?”

Lance takes this moment to openly gawk at him. “Shiro, no,” he says, perplexed. “You are, like, the most ‘bring home to your parents’ man I have ever met in my entire _life_.” And if that isn’t the truest statement Lance has ever said, he doesn’t know what is. He also hopes it doesn’t give him away too much.

Shiro flushes just slightly, the healed skin of his scar highlighted nicely against the faint red under his skin, and Lance thinks, _kill me now_. “And you’re sure not mad about this whole fake-marriage thing?”

“How could I be!” Lance exclaims, maybe a little too loudly, but Shiro doesn’t seem to notice. “I get to be in love with the sweetest, hottest guy in the bureau for an indefinite amount of time.” Scratch that, this might just be the most honest thing to ever leave Lance’s mouth. He thinks about how difficult hiding his feelings for Shiro is going to be while on this assignment and is, for the first time today, glad that their undercover personas depend on him doing the opposite of that.  “What’s not to be happy about?”

Shiro scoffs, but he’s grinning a little, which makes Lance’s chest go bubbly. “Sweet-talker.”

“You know it,” Shiro shakes his head, but Lance can still see him smiling. “So, hubby,” Lance says, his best, most dashing grin gracing his lips, “what’s our new last name?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to get out! midterms are kicking my ass  
> just for reference, i was originally going to only change Lance and Shiro's last name, but i figure it makes more sense to have them have different first names too.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Sparing him a quick glance, Shiro takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to place it on Lance’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine.” The gesture is probably meant to calm him, but honestly it just makes his heart beat faster. “Now you can finally put those cheesy lines of yours to good use,” he adds with a reassuring grin.

Lance doesn’t know why he let Allura talk him into this.

“We’re coming up on it now,” says Lance, swallowing nervously. There’s a woman waving at them almost frantically as they approach, standing next to an empty driveway and a mailbox that has the word “Nova” painted onto it. As he pulls into the driveway, Shiro beams at her through the windshield. Lance shakes his head. “I can’t believe you named us ‘Nova’. You’re such a nerd,” he says.

“Don’t judge me,” Shiro pouts, mock-offended, “I just really like space.”

“ _Nerd_ ,” Lance asserts.

“Oh hush, you.” Shiro says, putting the car in park. “Time to put on your best ‘newlywed’ face, sweetheart.”

He feels a blush creep up onto his cheeks, and Shiro looks over at him again when Lance takes too long with the witty response he expects. “Don’t tell me–” his partner starts, a grin growing out of his previous smile, “you can dish it but you can’t take it?”

“Shut up,” Lance insists, and Shiro’s delighted laugh is like music to his ears.

“This is going to be _fun_ ,” he says, cutting the engine. Lance opens the door to the passenger side of the car before Shiro can tease him anymore.

“Mr. and Mr. Nova!”

It’s a struggle not to bark out a laugh when she calls them by that name, but Lance manages to keep his composure. He slips easily into people-pleaser mode and smiles brightly at the woman in front of him. 

“Hi!” he greets her, watching Shiro walk around the car in his peripheral vision. “You must be the housing committee chair?”

“Oh gosh, no, I’m just the community welcome wagon!” she says bashfully. “My name is Mary Johansen; I live a street over from you two.”

Lance sticks out his hand to shake hers just as Shiro reaches his side and decides to _slip an arm around his waist._ In that moment, Lance thinks he deserves an award for the way he doesn’t even let his breathing falter.

Willing his voice not to crack, Lance says, “A pleasure. I’m Logan Nova.”

She smiles at him, then expectantly turns her attention to Lance’s supposed husband, who’s got the cheeriest expression on his face like he isn’t almost causing Lance to have a heart attack.

“And I’m Takahiro,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand as well. “But everyone just calls me Hiro.”

She nods at the two them excitedly. “Well, Hiro, Logan, we are just so pleased to have you both move in here! You sure look like the perfect fit for our lovely little community.”

Shiro chuckles, and from his place against his side Lance can feel it vibrate through his chest. “We’re very happy to be here! Right, pumpkin?”

At that, Lance feels the great desire to melt into the floor in both embarrassment and love. The great actor he is, he doesn’t show it, instead tucking himself a little deeper into Shiro’s side, looking up at him lovingly. “Sure thing, honey. It’s perfect! Too good to be true, if you ask me.” Lance brings his gaze back to Mary with some effort and makes sure to keep his tone playful. “I’m surprised they sold it to us for so cheap! You guys aren’t hiding anything from us, are you?”

With the way she stiffens, then tries to strain out a laugh, Lance knows hit a nerve. He does worry he’s pushed her too far too early, though. “Ha!” she exclaims, rather shakily. “You’ve got a joker here, Mr. Nova.”

 _Way to avoid the question,_ Lance thinks.

But Shiro, probably thinking it’s too early to pry, decides to turn the focus off of the community’s potential secrets. Instead, he tightens his arm around Lance and tilts his head to plant a kiss right in the centre of his forehead, saying, “Don’t I know it,” while Lance’s heart beats right out of his goddamned chest.

Before Lance has a chance to try and squeak out a response, the sound of a truck approaching causes them all to turn around.

“That must be our furniture,” Shiro says, finally letting his grip on Lance go. It’s both disappointing and relieving.

Mary glances at the watch around her wrist. “I’m glad you two got here relatively early,” she says to them, but frowns. “We _should_ be finished move in by six o’clock, but…” she trails off, and Lance casts her a confused look. 

“Is there a problem?” he asks as Shiro goes to greet the truck that pulls into the driveway.

“Well, you know that all move-ins must be completed by six p.m., sharp,” she explains, but when Lance just raises an eyebrow, she continues incredulously, “it says so right in the CC and R’s! Our regulations binder?”

“Ah,” Lance pauses, then says, “Hiro’s the one who read those,” knowing it’s not true in the slightest. Keith had said something about the community being really uptight about rules, or at least they think he did, but neither of them had read the gigantic binder Allura had sent them with, forgoing it because of all the other documents they had had to sort through. Lance continues, “Any reason we can’t make an exception, just this once? It’s just past four.” 

Unexpectedly, she flushes in what looks like anger. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nova,” her tone is stern and her words are clipped. Lance is taken aback by her sudden change in attitude towards him. “We have a rule book for a reason. We cannot just go flouting it for anyone who asks.”

“Right,” Lance says slowly, “Sorry.” 

“I’m going to gather some neighbours to help you unpack,” Mary says, and then she’s leaving, and Lance is left standing in the driveway looking at her back while very confused as to how he had managed to piss someone off that quickly.

Shiro comes up to him carrying a very large box in both hands but still managing to look like it was no sweat off his back. “What was that about?” he asks.

Lance shakes his head. “No clue.”

Shiro hums, looking contemplatively after her for a second as well, then continues into the house to put his box down somewhere. Lance goes to help unload, too, and they, along with the movers, work in silence for a little while. Just as Lance sees Mary walking back over to the house with a couple other people, one of the movers calls to him and asks where he wants the patio furniture.

Naturally, Lance goes to ask his husband. “Baby,” he calls to Shiro, who is currently in what looks like a living room area putting down another box. The man jogs over when he’s called, using the back of his hand to wipe some sweat off his brow. “Where do you want the patio furniture?” Lance asks. “Front or back porch?" 

“Oh, back porch should be–” Shiro begins to say, but someone interrupts him from behind Lance.

“No!” Mary says, voice shrill. Lance, Shiro, and the movers all turn around in surprise. “No,” she repeats, “outdoor furniture is strictly forbidden here. That will have to go in your garage.” 

 _Seriously?_ “CC and R’s?” Lance says, only slightly bitter, beginning to dislike Mary just a little bit. He manages to catch Shiro’s confused look as the man stands in the doorway, silently asking for an explanation. Lance just shrugs because he doesn’t have one. 

She nods tersely, not even gracing him with a verbal response, and turns back to the people she brought with her to give them all instruction to help. 

In a fit of childishness, Lance sticks his tongue out at her behind her back. He hears Shiro snort from the doorway, but he also hears a snicker from closer by. He turns his head to see a man that is probably twice his size, somewhere around Shiro’s height, bent over slightly with his hand over his mouth, seemingly trying to contain his laughter. He sees Lance looking at him as he recovers and smiles kindly, approaching him. 

“Don’t mind her,” he says, in lieu of a greeting. “Everyone’s a little obsessed with rules around here.” He extends his hand in between them, and Lance takes it. “Name’s Hunk, by the way. I’m your neighbour across the street. Well, me and Pidge, but they aren’t here to help move you guys in, so.” 

Lance raises his eyebrows. “Fitting,” he says, and it’s true, because the guy seriously matched his name to a T. “I’m Logan.”

Hunk smiles and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Help me with the these boxes?”

They walk over to the truck together, and in the process of helping Hunk with the next couple of boxes, Lance learns a couple things. One, this guy is _super_ funny. Like, actually hilarious. He throws a couple pop-culture jokes at Lance, eyeing him carefully to see if he gets them and isn’t just laughing to be polite. It’s not hard to see that Lance understands, though, because he outright cackles, loud enough that some of the other neighbours Mary had brought along pause what they were doing to look at the group of them. Lance almost apologizes, but stops when he sees that the man next to him looks decidedly pleased with himself about the whole thing.

Honestly, the fact that they basically have the same sense of humour comforts Lance immensely. It makes him feel a little bit more okay with being here, undercover, Shiro aside. While Hunk tells him a little bit about himself, Lance muses that he might like to keep Hunk as a friend after this whole ordeal.

Two, Hunk definitely did _not_ need his help with any boxes. The guy could probably bench press three entire Lances at the same time, considering the rate he’s going at now. He and Shiro are pretty much carrying the team. 

With all the help they managed to gather from the community, unpacking the move-in truck takes much less time than any previous move Lance has ever made in his life. People start to say goodbye to him and Shiro as Hunk brings the last couple of pieces inside with the help of the movers. Lance feels kind of bad that he cannot for the life of him remember any of their names, but they had all introduced themselves while he had been joking around with Hunk, so really, he blames the big man’s big personality for distracting him so much and can’t bring himself to be too upset about it.

Mary is standing next to his doorway with her hands on her hips and a smug look on her face when Lance finishes waving another couple of neighbours off. “I told you we’d have you all set before six!”

It takes a lot out of Lance to make his smile not look purposefully forced. “Shiro and I really appreciate it, Mrs. Johansen.”

“My pleasure!” She seems to have calmed down from before, because Lance only detects a fraction of the attitude in her tone that she had previously given them. “Just make sure to sit down and read the CC and R’s, now, okay?”

Internally, Lance groans and wonders if Shiro’s really going to make them do that. Then again, snuggling up on the couch with his fake husband while they read together does sound awfully nice. “Will do,” is what he settles with saying, and Lance can’t say he’s not glad to see her leave for good this time. The movers pass him as he enters his new house, and he quickly thanks them for their service before going to find Shiro.

Since he hadn’t really been concentrating when he’d been in and out of here during the past two hours, Lance hadn’t had time to take a look around him. Now that he has a moment, he finds the cleanliness of the place absolutely striking. He’d moved a fair share of times himself, but never had he seen a place left in such pristine condition. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d have assumed that he and Shiro were the first two to live here.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance calls out when he checks for Shiro and doesn’t find him in either the living room or downstairs bathroom. “Do you find it, like, really suspicious that they left this place–”

“In here, babe!” he hears from deeper into the house, probably the kitchen area.

 _Damn it,_ Lance thinks, feeling himself go a little red. _Two can play at that game._

“Okay, _darling,_ ” Lance says, walking the short distance to the other room. “Don’t you thinks it’s–ah,” Lance pauses, because Hunk is standing there right beside his partner looking like he was having the time of his life. “Hunk!” he says, quickly recovering from his moment of stunned silence. “I see you’ve met the husband.” 

“You’re a lucky dude, Logan,” Hunk says with a grin. Despite himself, Lance feels his chest tighten slightly. _I sure would be,_ he thinks.

“I sure am!” he says instead, coming to lean against the island the other were standing around. He shifts so he’s closer to Hunk and places a hand beside his mouth, stage-whispering, “I mean, those _arms_.” 

Hunk laughs as Shiro makes an embarrassed noise off to the side. “You two are really something,” he says, to which Lance smiles despite himself. That means they’re pulling it off. “Shiro was just telling me about how you guys met.”

A spike of panic shoots through him; that wasn’t something they discussed when they talked about their fake backgrounds. “Was he, now.”

Hunk nods encouragingly. “Sounds like it was right out of a rom-com!” He sighs dreamily. “College barista falls for tall, dark, and handsome morning regular.”

Feeling as though he had to make some kind of commentary, Lance tries to go with something that can be taken ambiguously. “He always had the _cutest_ bags under his eyes.”

Hunk opens his mouth to say something else, but is interrupted by a very loud rumbling that sounds like it had come from someone stomach. By the way their new friend’s face goes bright red, it’s probably Hunk’s.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Hunk says, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s still wearing a smile, though. “I didn’t get a chance to lunch today, and then Mary came and grabbed me. I guess I didn’t realize how late it had gotten."

“Hunk, it’s after six already!” Shiro frowns, admonishing him. “We’d invite you to stay for dinner, but…” He glances around the kitchen, at all the unpacked boxes and empty fridge, and it’s clear that Hunk isn’t going to get a satisfying meal here, tonight.

Waving them off, Hunk just grins good naturedly and says, “No worries, you guys! I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing than having a neighbour over for dinner on your first night in a new house, anyway.” He looks over to Lance when he says it, probably because they’ve grown pretty close over the course of the day, and laughs at his deer-in-the-headlights look. “Besides, Pidge’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you two around!”

Shiro and Lance walk him to the door and say their goodbyes, but before they can close it Hunk steps back in for a second. “Wait,” he says, “actually, how would you guys like to come for dinner one night, my treat? Say, Sunday? So Pidge will be home and you can meet them? It’d be cool to have some company over.”

Shiro smiles kindly. “That sounds wonderful, Hunk.”

“Awesome! Pidge’ll love you guys.” he exclaims, walking off again, and throws a “Goodnight!” over his shoulder for good measure.

“Night, Hunk!” Lance calls back. When they finally close the door for the first time today, Lance slides down the back of the door and lets out a deep sigh on the way to the ground.

Shiro gives him a look. “You doing okay?” he asks from above him. 

Humming an affirmative, Lance drops his head back against the door and closes his eyes. “Just tired. Feels like it’s been the longest day of my life. And _Mary_ , oh my god, she’s got the _biggest_ stick up her ass.” 

Shiro’s light laugh makes Lance’s stomach feel warm. “There’s definitely something going on there, at the very least,” the older man says. Then, in a gentler tone, “You want to save the investigating for tomorrow morning, rest up a bit?” 

It takes a deep breath and some thinking to decide, but finally Lance shakes his head and slowly rises from his place on the floor. “This place has secrets, man. Don’t want to waste a minute of it.”

Shiro looks unsure, so Lance hops away from the door to start opening boxes, rummaging through the equipment they brought with them from the bureau until he finds the video camera he needs to document their investigation of the house. “Aha!” he says, and walks back to Shiro, grinning. “Let’s get it on, baby.”

Shiro punches him lightly on the shoulder, but he’s laughing, so Lance sees it as a victory. They begin by documenting the condition of the house which, again, is impeccable. It’s hard to believe that they’ll be able to find any evidence of anything left over here, but Lance does a walkthrough of the house anyway to make sure, narrating his progress and what he sees. Shiro does a much closer examination of the carpets and other objects which are more likely to trap forensic evidence. 

Lance is starting to survey the last room of the house, the master bed, about to give up and go get the blood tracking flashlight because of how much nothing he’s found, when Shiro calls him back downstairs to come take a look at something.

Shiro’s standing on a chair pulled next to the wall when Lance makes his way back to him. “What’d you find?”

“Whoever cleaned, they seem to have missed a spot,” Shiro says, handing Lance what looks like a popsicle stick with what can only be described as grey _ooze_ on it. Lance wrinkles his nose.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, shying away as Shiro stretches it further toward him. He obviously wants him to take it and inspect, but Lance isn’t even wearing gloves at the moment, so to hell with that idea. 

“No idea,” Shiro finally, blessedly, takes the hint, and brings the goo back closer to his own face. “Maybe ectoplasm? Except it’s kind of light in colour for that…” he trails off to pause, and Lance uses his silence to groan.

“Oh, man, Shiro, please tell me this house isn’t going to go all ‘Haunting in Connecticut’ on us,” he starts. “Please, please tell me there’s not gonna be weird shit oozing from the walls or anything, because then we’re going to have to, like, call a priest or something, or an exorcist, and I have a real big problem with religious authorities–” Lance would have continued the rant, but he hears Shiro trying to cover up a snicker. “Don’t _laugh_ at me, you bastard!” 

Still standing on the chair, Shiro grins down at him. “Is that any way to talk to your husband?”

For once, Lance doesn’t flush. Maybe he’s finally getting used to this whole situation. “When he’s being an ass, _yes_ , it is.”

“Don’t worry, Lance,” he hops off the chair and brings his face close his partner’s. “I’ll protect you if you’re scared.” Lance forces an eye roll for effect and can’t help but wonder when their roles switched like this, if he’s lost his touch. He chalks it up to being Shiro’s special effect on him. “Seriously, though, I can’t even begin to imagine what secreted this. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he continues, mouth curving down a bit, but brightens considerably after a second. “But it’s definitely not the by-product of a golem, so Keith can shove it.”

Lance huffs, just because it’s funny to see Shiro being the competitive one for once. “Well, whatever it is,” he says, “bag it. I’ll drive it up to the lab tomorrow and have it analyzed. Figure out whether or not things are going to start getting spooky.”

“That’d be perfect,” Shiro says as thanks. “You find anything upstairs?”

Lance shakes his head. “Zilch,” he says, “I was just about to come get the blood tracker when you called me down.”

“Want some help?”

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.” They spend a bit of time searching for the right box, pluck out two flashlights, then head upstairs together. They turn the lights off for better viewing, and proceed to work in a companionable silence.

They spend at least a couple hours combing over every corner of the house, every nook and every cranny, and they find nothing. By the time Lance lets out a frustrated puff of breath, the sun has already long set and the streetlights have been turned on. Lance knows they don’t have much of the house left to inspect, but with the amount of evidence they’ve turned up so far, he can’t imagine it’ll look much different than the rest. 

“It’s like they all just up and left.” Lance rubs at his eyes. “Who does that? Leaves, no notice, no nothing, no one sees them go. _How_ does someone do that?” He glances over to Shiro, and sees the man in a similar state to his own. In fact, he might even be more exhausted; he had driven them most of the way here.

“Maybe they all got warped into different dimension,” Shiro offers. Lance can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Imagine making Allura read that in a report.”

“After everything you’ve managed to get by her, I can’t imagine she’d fight you on it.” Lance sighs. “Are you cool if we call it night, though? I don’t know how many more white walls I can stare at without my eyes starting to bleed.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Shiro admits, and Lance is glad they’re in agreement. They both pick themselves up off the ground, going to place their tools in back in the box they came from. Shiro grabs his and Lance’s suitcases from where they stand next to the door. “Where do you want to sleep? I can take the couch, if you prefer.”

Lance takes his bag from his partner and snorts. “Shiro, this house is huge – the bureau sent us with two bed sets for the amount of space we have. Just because you don’t sleep like a normal person at home doesn’t mean you get to keep doing the same while you’re married to me. As your husband, it is my sworn duty to make sure you actually catch some shuteye for once.”

“I want a divorce,” Shiro says.

Lance gasps and fake slaps him, and the two end up laughing together while Lance tells him, “Just for that, you get the master bedroom,” and ushers him upstairs into room at the end of the hall.

“You’re so backwards,” Shiro says, but protests no further, likely because he knows this isn’t a fight he’ll win when it comes to Lance. Sleep is something the younger man takes very seriously.

He stays to make sure Shiro actually puts his bag down and intends on sleeping in the room. When he’s satisfied, he finds it’s a little difficult to get his feet to move toward the doorway. He knows he’d rather jump right into that queen size bed next to Shiro, as real husbands would do, but he manages to supress the urge. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” Lance says in parting. He leaves after he hears Shiro’s goodnight. 

He’s halfway down the hall when Shiro calls after him. “Ah, Lance,” Lance turns to face him, and Shiro takes a moment to gather his thoughts, like he’d chased after Lance before he’d had the chance to think of what he wanted to say. “I didn’t… I didn’t go too far today, did I?” he asks.

Lance isn’t sure what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

It looks like Shiro’s having a hard time forcing the words out of his throat. “With the married couple stuff,” he finally says. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

 _Anything but,_ Lance thinks. “Not at all!” he settles on saying. “You were perfect.”

Some of the tightness in Shiro’s shoulders relaxes, and he smiles a small, relieved smile. “I’m glad.”

He leaves it at that, and Lance is left staring as the door closes once again. He doesn’t want to let himself wonder, but it seems to be that maybe Shiro had _liked_ acting like his husband today. 

He squashes the thought before his chest can squeeze itself any tighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so Shiro being flirty back with Lance is really important to me if u can't tell. next chapter should have some keith ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! tentatively! it's pride and we need more shance  
> there's so many inconsistencies with this series but i figured it'd be better to update than go back and rewrite the whole thing. enjoy! let me know if u catch anything that needs fixing.

When the door closes, Shiro releases the breath he’d been holding all day.

It’s almost like nostalgia, being tense around Lance again. At the beginning of their assignment together, Shiro had been on edge for a good reason – Lance was the agent the FBI had sent to keep an eye on him, debunk whatever spooky theories Shiro came up with and counter them with plausible theories of his own. Technically, Lance is still supposed to be doing that job. The thing the Bureau didn’t plan for was the infallible trust that would inevitably build between them, for better or for worse.

They also hadn’t anticipated Shiro’s _feelings._

After the two got past Shiro’s and Lance’s respective trust issues, the tension Shiro felt around his partner persisted for an entirely different reason. He wasn’t expecting it; sure, from the moment they met, Shiro could relent that Lance was attractive. That didn’t mean he was going to end up caring for him. Plus, Shiro thought he was a mole working for his plethora of enemies; it was never supposed to get this complicated. He had accepted that nothing would come of their relationship, happy with the close friendship they developed over the time they spent together. He forced himself to kill the butterflies that dance in his stomach whenever Lance does practically _anything_. But now, here he is.

Married.

Indefinitely.

Dragging a hand down his face, Shiro groans quietly and flops down onto the queen-sized bed the Bureau had requisitioned for them. He doesn’t know if they thought the two would actually end up sleeping together (only _literally_ ), but if they had, he knows he can blame A.D. Allura for planting the idea in their heads. And since the bed was a queen, Shiro has no doubt Allura must be positively gleeful thinking of them snuggling up tight for the night.

It’s not like he’s told her anything – no, Allura is just the type to notice these things. She’s a romantic, no matter how much of a badass she may be. There have been many times when Shiro’s been caught staring a little too long at his partner and is graced with her knowing smirk. And it is a smirk, because she’s not even decent enough to feel bad about how absolutely unrequited it all is.

Shiro sighs. He knows he doesn’t have the time to be thinking about Lance in this capacity; his brother is probably in danger, or more danger than usual, and he needs to be working on a fix for whatever situation he’s gotten the two people he cares most about in the world into.

As he feels himself sinking into the mattress, though, his thoughts drift from Lance to how little sleep he had gotten the past few days trying to decipher Keith’s ridiculous code. That, and the fact that, damn, the Bureau really went all out trying to make sure he and Lance were comfortable.

The bed is soft, more comfortable than anything he’s slept on the past couple years, and before he can really help it his eyes are slipping closed, his last thoughts, unsurprisingly, of Lance.

 

Lance wonders if he’s going to spend every waking moment of this assignment cursing Allura’s name. Shiro hadn’t been up yet when Lance rose early to begin the next step in their investigation – and thank _god,_ because while Lance has seen his fair share of sleepy morning Shiro’s, he doesn’t know how his heart would handle the added context of husbands. He hopes he’s not going to find some weird, suggestive gift from her in one of the boxes as they continue to unpack, because even if Allura is one of his best friends, he doesn’t know how well he’d be able to chew her out for fear of his life.

The bed in the guest room was incredibly comfortable, though. He supposes he’s going to have to thank her for that.

_It is nice to be out of the house at a normal time_ , Lance thinks as he swaps the one sample they found last night off the kitchen counter with a little note of a handwritten winky face. Being an agent, and working with _Shiro_ , of all agents, means that his hours are odd at best – at least playing house might give him a taste of how an ordinary man lives.

Lance is fiddling with the car keys when he hears an enthusiastic whistle from somewhere near him. He turns red immediately and swears that if Shiro’s starting with him this early in the morning he might just up and disappear himself.

When he turns around, however, Lance sees Hunk, smiling and waving and coming closer, calming Lance’s heartrate instantly.

“Woah, man!” Hunk says, still approaching, “you look so _handsome_. Where are you off to so early?”

Since Lance wears suits basically every day of his life, it takes him a moment to realize not that this kind of outfit is a novelty for a lot of people. He knows it was for him, when he first got the job. Of course, his brain _has_ to take him a step further through a series of thoughts that ends with  _if Hunk thinks I look good, does that mean Shiro does too?_

His face heats up, and Hunk’s smile morphs into a grin. “You know, with all you had to say to me about Hiro yesterday, I thought you’d be able to take compliments just as well as you give them.”

The comment, almost identical to the Shiro’s was in the ride here, snaps him out of whatever daze he had been in.

“Of course I am!” he exclaims, setting up to lean on the car casually and look like he wasn’t just pining over the man he was fake-married to for an indefinite period of time. “I’m offended you think I _don’t_ think I’m a gift to this godforsaken planet.”

Hunk sing-songs, “That blush says otherwise,” drawing out the end of the sentence just enough to cover up Lance’s squawk of indignation.

“I can’t believe you’re the first friend I make here and you’re already teasing me mercilessly.”

“If you think I’m bad, wait for Pidge,” Hunk says on a laugh, smile bright and wide at the mention of being Lance’s friend. He sobers a bit when he continues, “I am sorry if I crossed a line, though? I know I can have some trouble with boundaries sometimes.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Lance smiles in a hurry to reassure the man in front of him. “It’s – nice, actually. I appreciate the lightheartedness.”

Hunk’s smile is back, and Lance gets the feeling that he should bottle it up and sell it as sunshine. “Good! Because I really don’t know how we’d work without making some fun of each other.” Lance laughs in agreement, and Hunk goes on, “Seriously, though, I think I forgot to ask what you do. I’m surprised to see you up and dressed like that so soon after you moved in.”

Lance is glad he and Shiro had drilled each other with their backstories so hard before they got here, because his answer comes out smooth as butter. “I’m a lawyer, actually.” Perfect, because working for the FBI requires knowledge of the law and similar critical thinking skills. “Small time, but I’ll get to the big leagues one day.”

“Logan Nova, attorney-at-law,” Hunk says, lowering his voice for dramatic effect completely unwitting of the way Lance’s heart stings at the reminder that this funny, endearing man doesn’t, and might never, _really_ know him.

Regardless, Lance puts on his best smile. “Epic, I know.”

“Totally,” Hunk agrees. “I don’t want to keep you, though. We’re still on for Sunday, yeah? Not to pressure you, but I kind of already told Pidge, and they’re super excited to meet the next ‘victims’ of 1123 Castle Road.”

There’s a pause in conversation then where Lance realizes he may have just found his first big lead, and Hunk realizes that that was exactly the wrong thing to say to someone whose job is investigation, lawyer or otherwise.

“Uh,” Hunk stutters. He must have read the look on Lance’s face as shock rather than carefully guarded, elation, because he continues, “sorry, I just, um, assumed your realtor would have said something? Well, anyway, I should probably let you go and defend people, or whatever you do looking so snazzy in your suit, so –”

Lance gives a serene smile, hoping it doesn’t come across as predatory. He straightens his posture and uses every trick in the book to make his new friend keep eye contact with him

“They said a little,” Lance says, never mind that the only realtor they’d had was basically Keith. “You’ve seen Hiro, though. I have no doubt my man could punch a ghost’s lights out if he really had to.” Not to mention that on more than one occasion Lance has _seen_ it happen, even if he hates admitting it. “We don’t really believe in those things. But hey, they’re still fun to hear about,” he says with a wink, hoping it’s enough to get Hunk to talk.

The other man’s lips briefly thin into two taught lines, though, and even when he regains his smile, it’s apologetic and not even close to the amount of bright and sunny it had been earlier. “It’s a little too early for ghost stories, don’t you think?” Hunk dodges with more tact than Mary could ever muster, for which Lance is grateful. Lance knows a lost cause when he sees one.

At least, for now.

The apologetic look ends up taking over, and their conversation veers back into normal people territory. “Plus, shoot, I’m probably making you late, huh? And it’s probably your first day, too! I’m terrible, oh my god, you should have said something!”

“Hunk!” Lance laughs at the unexpected outburst. “It’s fine, really. You’re fun to talk to.”

“I don’t think ‘having a nice chat with a nice neighbour’ will get you out of any repercussions with your new boss, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Lance says good-naturedly, lifting his arm and patting Hunk on the shoulder. The motion causes his suit jacket to lift a little, and because Lance is glancing back to his car he misses the way Hunk’s eyes flick down to something interesting holstered to his side, almost out of sight had it been positioned a little farther back. “Maybe I’ll see you when I get back? Sunday, at least, definitely.”

“Sure,” Hunk says, slowly, and repeats it again in a more normal tone a second time. “Sure. I’ll see you then!”

Lance gets in the car and Hunk starts back to continue watering his lawn, both more than a little intrigued by the encounter.

 

When Shiro wakes, he feels kind of gross. It takes him a minute to realize why – he’s dressed in his clothes from yesterday, which he spent all day travelling in. He grimaces, grateful the house is quiet and Lance seems to be gone. Though he mourns the chance of making Lance breakfast, he’s also glad his fake husband doesn’t have to see him with this amount of stubble and coated in a layer of day old sweat.

 As he gets dressed, he does feel bad for sleeping in. He knows they both agreed that he’d get more investigating done pretending to be a works-from-home writer – this way, he can talk to their neighbours and look for clues around the neighbourhood ‘for inspiration’ while Lance is out at the lab or libraries.

However, he also knows he sucks at just sitting around. And since they only found one clue yesterday that had somehow become Lance’s responsibility, he’s left with nothing to do at the moment but stare at himself in the mirror and wonder how to act when his husband gets home.  

Eventually, Shiro does start his day. He finds Lance’s note in the kitchen and indulges in a real, full smile before promptly shutting it down and moving on. He has a quick bite to eat and makes a mental list of all the things he could do today, but really, not much is going to happen until they get that sample back, unless they can find something else to go on. _Which_ , Shiro frowns, thinking that the state of the house might reflect the state of the community, _seems unlikely. At least, without Keith’s help_.

He’s rooting trough some boxes looking at everything packed for them when he comes across something that he himself wouldn’t have ever considered bringing. It’s one of those rainbow whirling lawn ornaments that only people who can afford real houses – not apartments – have. Shiro supposes he is one of those people, now, for however long this mission will last.

He casts it aside, at first. After all, it’s not something he’d ever put in his yard even if he _did_ have a house, except maybe during pride month. On second thought, Lance might like it? Something nags at him, though, and while he tries to make it go away by looking through some other things they’d had packed for them, he finds his mind wandering back to yesterday, the whole neighbourhood coming to help them move in before dark. How upset that one lady had been about the patio furniture…

An idea strikes him. It’s not a very good one, admittedly, and Lance would probably laugh at him for doing it, but it’s not like he has any actual novels to write.

Getting up from the box he was shuffling through, Shiro grabs the whirligig, as well as a chair from their small dining room table. He places the chair right next to one of the windows which frame the front door, sticks the whirligig in a random place on the lawn, goes back inside to sit on the chair, and waits.

And waits. And waits.

Shiro frowns. He was sure something would happen to the thing. The reaction to their timing yesterday was definitely not normal – neither was Mary’s outrage at a table and some chairs. He obviously hadn’t read the community’s rule book yet (he knows it might contain some kind of hint, and that that could have been his assignment for today, but it was just so _boring_ ), but usually community’s like this pride themselves on dinner parties and barbeques. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any basketball hoops in any driveways, either, which is odd, right? There had been some teens at their “welcome party” yesterday, he remembers.

Sighing, Shiro wonders what the problem could be. Maybe their enthusiasm only begins in the afternoon? The night? He bemoans the thought of becoming nocturnal for this mission; his sleep schedule was already messed up enough.

He hangs his head for a moment, trying to resign himself to reading the CC&R’s before Lance returns, and casts one last scornful glance at the whirligig before getting up to drag the chair–

Shiro does a double take. Then he opens the front door and canvases the whole lawn.

It’s _gone._  

Shiro realizes he might look ridiculous standing in the middle of his yard, in sweatpants and a tank, with a frown on his face and his hands on his hips, but he does it anyway. He had looked down for less than a second.

Back inside, he finds one or two more things to put on his lawn. He does one at a time, managing to keep a watchful eye on them for about ten minutes each until he inevitably looks down at his watch, or his phone, or just _blinks_ , for god’s sakes, and then those items are gone too.

He’s not sure what this is. The lawn things weren’t even that _nice._

Since the bureau didn’t supply them with an endless supply of whirligigs, Shiro runs out pretty quickly. He’s just about to stick a ladle in his nice, manicured grass when his phone rings.

He jumps, a little. And hopes whoever is stealing his shit didn’t see. It’s _government_ _property_.

“What?” He says, audibly annoyed.

“ _Wow_ ,” the voice on the end of the line drawls, and though it’s kind of crackly and not the real thing, all Shiro’s frustrations drain out of him. “ _Is that how you greet your favourite long-lost brother_?”

“Keith!” Shiro exclaims, too loud for a man who thinks he’s being watched. He hurries back inside. “What – I mean, how? Are you sure this is –?”

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Keith reassures, and Shiro grins wide, leaning his back against the front door. It says a lot that his brother trusts a cell connection. “ _At least, it should be. You’re totally short-distance, now. I know how to navigate these kinds of phone lines_.”

“It’s good to hear your voice. That you’re safe,” Shiro says. He can’t help it. He and his brother have been through a lot.

“ _You too,_ _buddy. I know it’s been, like, less than twenty-four hours but – well. I was worried._ ”

Shiro’s chest tightens. Like he said: a lot. “How’d you know when we got here?” He asks, instead of the million other questions on his mind. He knows Keith’ll tell him what he wants to know eventually, even if it is in letter form. For now, hearing his voice is enough.

“ _I’ve been keeping tabs, when I can,_ ” Keith says, no less cryptic than usual. “ _Which brings me to my next point. How’s it going over there?_ ”

Shiro huffs out an aggravated breath. “I was just about to shove a ladle into my lawn to bait out whoever’s stealing my whirligigs.”

Keith chuckles, amused, and it lifts Shiro’s mood immensely even if it is at his expense. It’s been too long since he’s heard that sound. “ _A ladle?"_  

“I have a theory and I’m ignoring your judgement to focus on the more important thing, here: how close are you to be able to keep tabs on us?”

“ _Close enough_ ,” is all Keith replies with, and Shiro can’t help but sigh. “ _I know, I’m sorry. But I’m not sure where I stand yet and I’m trying to figure out a way to – shit_!” 

“Keith?” Shiro’s heartrate spikes immediately. He knows Keith can take care himself, but he’s the only family he’s got _left_.

There’s a moment where heavy breathing and keysmashing are the only things Shiro can hear from his brother’s end, and he knows not to interrupt, but he’s on the edge of his seat, here.

“ _We’ve got about two more minutes before your superiors figure out a way to bypass my safeguards, so I’ll make this quick.”_ A flicker of anger wells up in Shiro at the reference to the people responsible for splitting up his family, but he quells it as best as possible. “ _Why don’t you try sitting in your yard instead of giving your neighbour free kitchen supplies? That ought to have the same effect, right?”_

“I’ll try it,” Shiro says, refusing to dwell on why he hadn’t thought of that in the first place. “Do you have anything else for me? Any clues? Who– or whatever did this left the place looking like it’d never even seen another person, let alone a couple, before.” 

“ _Damn,_ ” Keith exhales. “ _I’ll try to get you something, but you know there’s a limit to what I can do, man._ ”

Shiro bites his lip. “I know. Be careful. Lance and I will manage.”

“ _You’re the best investigator I know, Shiro_ ,” Keith says seriously. “ _We’ll figure this out together. Let’s just hope this Lance guy can keep up._ ”

“He can. Absolutely.” He pauses for a few precious seconds before continuing. “I know this was risky, Keith, but – thanks for calling. I love you."

Keith’s answer is immediate. “ _I miss you. I wanted to check in, for real; it was worth it. I love you, too._ ”

“Call me if you need anything,” Shiro says, only half-joking, and Keith huffs a laugh before ending the call, leaving Shiro to slide down the door and hang his head between his knees to ward off the sudden, deafening silence.

 

While Shiro does sit in a chair on the lawn for a while he gets bored, and fast. No one walks by, the lawn ornament thief does not come by to steal him, and it’s _hot_. He resolves to come back and try this again tomorrow, after he’s had chance to talk with Lance and come up with some other ideas.

He’s in the living room sprawled across the couch really, truly reading the community guidebook when Lance walks through the door and calls out, “Honey, I’m home!”

“Living room,” Shiro calls back, smile evident in his voice. He thinks, _I could get used to that,_ but doesn’t take his eyes off the page. Right now, it’s saying something incredibly strange about the sewage system.

“You’re actually _reading_ those?” Lance says, shocked, when he walks in.

Shiro hums. “They’re pretty weird, honestly. No weirder than any other community’s rules, I think, but god, these people are definitely uptight.”

Lance comes to read over his shoulder once Shiro rearranges himself to make some room. He can’t help but watch Lance’s face as he reads; the corners of his mouth are downturned, eyes flicking across the page at a speed that betrays the years of practice he has reading reports so boring he’d rather be dead.

Affection bubbles up from somewhere dangerously close to the surface, so he looks back to the page before it shows itself too obviously on his face.

“I’ve only read a little, but the only strange thing about this is how uniform they want us to be? I mean,” Lance flips a page or two back and scans the it until he finds the paragraph he wants. “‘Absolutely no lawn decorations, lawn furniture, gardening, paint jobs,’ blah, blah, blah. Like, I had trouble finding the house just now, they all look so similar. You think that’s something?”

“It might be,” Shiro muses. “That at least would explain what happened to me this morning.” Lance gives him a look, so Shiro explains. “The Bureau packed us with some whirligigs, you know, the swirly things people stick in on their lawns? I put one up, and the second I looked away, it disappeared.”

“Huh.”

“I tried a couple others, too, but someone stole _all_ of them. I figured at that point that it was something slightly more serious than a neighbour with a passion for rainbow windmills.”

Lance laughs. With nothing much else to say, Shiro lets Lance continue reading through the binder, not doing so himself because it was all starting to look the same to him. He’s trying to figure out a way to bring up his call with Keith, knowing it would interest Lance, when his partner speaks up again.

“You know,” Lance begins, “the other thing that strikes me here is how obsessed they are with getting every little thing done by six o’clock, sharp.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, look here,” he says, pointing.

Shiro does, and sees at the bottom of a section on car washing of all things, “‘ _Must be completed and back in the garage by six p.m., sharp.’'_ "He thinks for a moment. “Maybe it’s an safety thing? Aesthetic, even?”

“Maybe,” Lance replies, “but don’t you think that’s odd? I mean, it’s a gated community, Shiro, they’ve got guards that make patrols and everything. And I don’t know anyone in the world, _ever_ , that parks their car in their garage 365 days a year.” 

“Well, maybe this is where they were all hiding,” Shiro teases. Lance punches his arm lightly, and he chuckles. “You may be right, though. I didn’t notice while I was reading alone, but now that you’ve mentioned it I’ve seen that time in more than a few other places.” He flips to a random page and takes a quick look before finding what he needs. “Here. _Six o’clock_ , again.” He repeats the motion, and finds a couple more instances of this on every page he turns to.

“That’s gotta be significant, somehow,” Lance says. Shiro makes a noise of agreement. “I’d say to ward off robbers, but again, gated community, and most robberies take place between six a.m. and six p.m., anyway…” He trails off, thinking. “You think Keith would have anything on this? Is six o’clock the witching hour, or something?”

Shiro snorts. “For how long we’ve been working together, you should know the witching hour is twelve a.m., Lance.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lance roll his eyes. “And, um. About that. Keith called me today.”

That snaps Lance to attention. “Seriously?”

He nods. “While I was sticking various government-owned items in our front yard.”

Gears start to work in Lance’s head so hard Shiro can practically see them. He knows his partner is trying to figure out the right questions to ask, the safe questions to ask, or just how hard to push, and decides to have mercy on him before his overly considerate nature makes him explode. “He didn’t say anything too relevant to the investigation – just that he’s ‘keeping tabs’ on us, whatever that means. He knows we got here safe.”

The look in Lance’s eyes is soft when Shiro looks over at him. “It must have been nice to hear his voice.”

Shiro sighs before he realizes he’s doing it. “You have no idea.” But Lance _does_ have an idea, because he’s got a family out there bigger than three of Shiro’s combined. What’s more, he’s done this undercover thing before, alone, and he’s probably already feeling the effects of isolation from the people he loves. A hurt expression crosses his face for long enough that Shiro notices, and he curses himself for having such a warped sense of family that those words slipped out in the first place. “I mean – I’m sorry, Lance,” he tries to back track, but all it does is bring a slightly sardonic smile to Lance’s lips. “I know you miss your family, it’s not fair that I got to talk to mine. You know the only reason I could is because Keith can encrypt the –”

“Shiro,” Lance interrupts with a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro holds his breath. “Do not ever apologize for talking to your family. Especially Keith. I don’t know the guy, but I can see how important he is to you. I’m glad you got to talk for once instead of reading his chicken scratch.”

Allowing himself a moment, Shiro takes a deep breath and covers Lance’s hand with his own. “Thanks,” he says simply on the exhale.

A light flush creeps up Lance’s neck and settles in his cheeks, but Shiro doesn’t register it, too busy looking earnestly into his partner’s eyes.

Lance says, “Of course,” and Shiro doesn’t know if he actually sounds a beat away from flustered or if it’s all in his head. “Anyway,” he begins in a more stable tone, and tells Shiro about his conversation with Hunk this morning. “He definitely knows something. I’m sure if he does, then his roommate does too.”

Shiro considers it. “It’s definitely worth looking into.”

Lance smiles. “Plus, the lab said they could get back to us with that gunk as early as Saturday morning, so we’ve got a whole two days to sit and do nothing.”

“If by ‘do nothing’ you mean ‘investigate like we’re supposed to,’ I’m in.” Shiro says with a smile, dropping his hand with only a slight twinge of regret.

Lance manufactures one of his best pouts, and whines, “But Shiro, we _just_ moved in – I’m _sore_ from moving all that furniture.”

Shiro wills his face to cool, because Lance has never whined his name and said the word “sore” in the same sentence like that before. “We have jobs, dear,” he says, voice thankfully steady, walking from the couch to the kitchen and watching over his shoulder as Lance flops into the space he vacates.

“At least I actually _did_ mine today,” his partner grumbles, loudly, so Shiro takes off a sock and chucks it at him. He’s satisfied with the way Lance screeches.

“Hey! That was hardly light reading.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shiro thinks he can hear the smile in Lance’s voice. “Now what are you making me for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel terrible that this took a small eternity but i'm already working on the next chapter so i can at least promise a fourth if nothing else  
> thanks for waiting so long, ur comments mean everything! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blaine voice*: *whispers* _spaghetti_

Thursday and Friday go pretty smoothly, all things considered.

They don’t get much real investigation done – they can’t very well go around asking people if there was a giant, murderous monster living in their backyards (or, in Lance’s opinion, if there was a regular sized, murderous _human_ in their backyards), so Lance and Shiro decided they would lay low as much as possible. Especially after Shiro’s lawn fiasco, it was important that the suspicions of their neighbours didn’t rise past a healthy level of curiosity.

As much as Lance would have liked to, he doesn’t spend these days in the house with Shiro. The “undercover” part of this mission is just as important as the actual investigation, after all, and keeping up appearances is one of Lance’s better skills, even when things are exactly the opposite of what they seem.

At least it keeps his mind off things. In his moments of downtime, he can tell he’s starting to go a little stir crazy. This isn’t the work he’s used to, or the work he likes, but it’s not only that – Lance expends a great amount of conscious energy to not think about his family; it’s a weakness, he knows it, but he can’t help it in situations like this. When he’s bored back at his and Shiro’s real office, he doesn’t hesitate to call home knowing that someone is going to be around to chat. He’s got a big family and takes full advantage of that fact as often as he’s able. It’s strange, upsetting even, to be so isolated from them.

And Lance will admit, it hurt when Shiro told him he had talked to Keith. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, and it wasn’t, necessarily. He wouldn’t deny, though, that there had been a small pang in his heart upon hearing the words _I spoke to my brother_ when Lance won’t be able to do the same any time soon.

Lance knows it safer for everyone involved if he has no contact with his loved ones. He knows the Assistant Director is taking good care of them, back home, reassuring them that he’s fine and that he’ll be home soon. He knows Shiro’s brother can contact them because, even if he isn’t part of the FBI now, he _was_ , once. Keith knows how to protect himself and Shiro in ways Lance’s family wouldn’t even believe. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.  

Exhaling, Lance drops his head onto the desk in his rented office. He’s hardly able to admit it to himself, but honestly, he regrets agreeing to this undercover gig. He loves Shiro, sure, would do anything for him, but if his homesickness is getting this bad this soon, he can’t imagine what it’s going to be like if they can’t catch the culprit.

 

Shiro knows he shouldn’t be thinking of this assignment as a vacation, but he kind of is.

It’s not intentional, at least at first. Thursday passed quickly with him doing all sorts of digging into the community, the residents. No one seemed too suspicious from what he found, and the only new, interesting information about the complex was that it is built on top of a former garbage dump. It struck Shiro as the possible reason that everyone is so uptight, here – they were trying to keep it nice and manicured so they could forget what they’re all living on top of.

Friday, though, he kind of just… lounges? He definitely feels guilty about it; Lance is probably doing actual work and he’s at home, doing nothing.

Well, not _nothing_. He hadn’t told Lance this, but he _is_ trying to write a book – at Allura’s insistence. His boss and best friend thinks it could help with past trauma, getting all of his feelings out there, and since she recognizes that he doesn’t ever want to talk to another person about it out loud, she suggested he put it down on the page.

He started doing it shortly after he and Lance started working together, for reasons he never wants to analyze.

Regardless, here he is, writing. And it feels good, really. Shiro hasn’t been able to do this for a long while, and he’s realizing in the moment that he shouldn’t have let it drop. This kind of stuff isn’t meant to sit around in his brain, and he’s grateful to Allura for finally getting that through his thick skull.

Shiro is so wrapped up in what he’s doing, he doesn’t register the door being opened and closed until he hears a door shut softly from upstairs.

“Lance?” he calls the minute he realizes he’s missed his partner’s return – and that his partner apparently hadn’t even spared him a thought. He knows it’s only been three days, but he’s become accustomed to Lance greeting him with playful flirtation over the course of their fake espousement.

When he doesn’t get an answer, Shiro gets up from his spot in their living room and walks upstairs, wondering if maybe Lance just didn’t hear or see him. “Lance?” he tries again.

In lieu of an answer, the sound of the shower filters through the door. It’s difficult for Shiro to tell if Lance actually didn’t hear him or if he’s being actively ignored.

Deciding it won’t do any good to knock on the door ‘til it breaks, Shiro figures he may as well make Lance a proper meal. He’s missed out on making his partner breakfast a couple times, sure, but like hell Shiro’s going to let him go so long without at least one home-cooked meal.

They don’t have much, but Shiro manages to scrounge up some ingredients and make a pretty good batch of spaghetti, if he does say so himself.

He’s just finished plating two separate bowls of it as Lance comes down, hair still damp from his shower, towel around his neck in a blue baseball tee and loose-fitting pyjama pants. His skin is slightly flushed from steam, and Shiro wishes he could say the same for himself.

He wonders if it’s the fact that they’re in _their_ _house_ that’s making this scene so different than it usually is. Shiro has seen Lance fresh out of a shower so many times in the motel rooms they’ve shared over so many cases, often wearing less clothing than he is now, but in this moment he looks… pampered, almost. Safe. Warm.

It’s all very domestic.

To save himself from the ogling that he’s surely about to start doing, Shiro quickly turns back to the pasta and says something about having made dinner. Which is obvious.

“I would have been just fine with takeout again,” Lance says, and Shiro thinks it’s his nerves that make him hear the amusement in Lance’s voice. There’s something else too, though. A tightness, almost, that Shiro can only recognize from the years they’ve spent working together.

Placing their meals on the tiny dining room table they were sent with, Shiro gathers up his courage to actually make eye contact with his beautiful fake husband and pulls out Lance’s chair for him with what he hopes is a dashing grin.

“I figured I was slacking on my trophy husband duties,” he explains, and Lance rolls his eyes.

The movement isn’t as smooth as it usually is, though, and Lance winces as if he has a headache. Now that he’s looking, Shiro can see a red tinge around his partner’s eyes, too, and while nobody else would probably notice, Shiro has a feeling Lance isn’t as okay as he obviously wants to seem. He tries not to outwardly show his worry, not wanting to scare Lance into silence.

As he sits and throws Shiro a not-so-genuine grin of his own, Lance says, “You’re supposed to be a writer _,_ not a trophy husband. Are you telling me you sat around and did nothing all day?”

Shiro shrugs, taking his own seat. “Only so much research I can do on a place as pristine as this.”

Lance gasps, faux-scandalized, and Shiro’s impressed with how well he’s managing to hide the fact that he’d presumably been crying in the shower not ten minutes earlier. “So you were slacking!”

“Just eat your pasta,” Shiro says on a laugh, and throws a napkin at Lance for good measure.

They dig in without any other words, and there’s silence for a few moments as Shiro tries to figure out how to breach the topic of Lance’s mental health. The cover of food helps. It’s clear Lance was hungry, at least, so it’s a good while until he slows down enough that Shiro thinks he can hold a conversation.

He hopes it’s not super awkward when he starts with, “So your day was okay?”

Lance gives him a (thankfully) closed mouth grin and takes the time to chew before responding. “Waiting for this sample to come back is _agonizing_ , man. I know I don’t work forensics, but it can’t take that long to analyze something so small, right?”

_He’s deflecting_ , Shiro thinks. It’s something Lance does often, or at least as often as there’s feelings he’s agonizing over but doesn’t want to discuss. Shiro doesn’t want to outright ask what happened because he knows Lance would just clam up, but this undercover situation means new feelings could be involved, which means a lot of this might be new territory for them. Shiro’s not sure how much of his prior Lance knowledge applies here. He hums in response, hoping it’s not too noncommittal, and then decides to throw caution to the wind and just _ask_.

“But you’re feeling okay, right?”

“Of course I am,” Lance says immediately, and by the look on his face he knows he spoke too soon. “What could be wrong already? It’s only been three days,” he adds.

Shiro frowns, if only slightly. “Lance,” he sighs.

“What?” Lance snaps. Shiro raises his eyebrows, surprised, and it’s Lance’s turn to sigh. “It’s nothing, okay?”

“We both know that’s not true,” Shiro says, not unkindly.

Lance bites the inside of his lip. “Can’t we just eat and forget about this? I’m fine, it’s just a… a mood. I promise.”

“Lance,” he says again, not admonishingly, and not in disappointment. More concern than anything else. “I think you know that I know more than anyone that ‘moods’ are just as serious as anything else.” When Lance just avoids eye contact to start chewing at his lips again, Shiro reaches across the table and put his hand on top of his partner’s. “Lance,” Shiro says, it’s all he’s _been_ saying, but something in his pleading tone this time must strike a chord with the other man. Lance’s eyes flick up to his. “Talk to me,” he offers.

“It’s nothing,” Lance tries, one last time, but it comes out weak.

“If it was nothing, you would have said it already,” Shiro points out. It earns a huff of air from Lance that could be a laugh, so Shiro decides now is as good a time as any to press him. “What happened?”

“Nothing _happened_ ,” Lance begins, and it’s like opening the flood gates. “I just – I miss them. I _miss_ my family. And I know I’m an adult, and I know it’s only been three days, and I know _everyone_ at the Bureau thinks I’m weak and annoying and that I can’t last on another undercover mission after how I came back from my last one, but I’m not a _bad agent_ for loving my mom, and brothers, and sisters, an everyone else, okay?”

Shiro can’t say he’s taken aback, because he expected this eventually, but hadn’t expected Lance to be this vehement about it so early on. He tries not to let that show as he says, “You know I would never judge you for that, Lance. There’s nothing wrong with missing your family.”

“I know that, okay!” Lance steals his hand back from under Shiro’s to cross his arms. Shiro pretends not to feel the hurt that the action sends through his heart, because he knows it isn’t him Lance is really upset with. “I know that. Just, it’s been so little time, and I’m starting to wonder how long I’m going to be able to last with this _feeling_ in my chest. And it doesn’t help that you –”

When he cuts himself off, Shiro jumps in, more worried than before. “That I what?”

Lance lets it stew in his mind for more than a few seconds before finally meeting Shiro’s eyes. He can see the conflict in them, as well as the moment Lance decides not to tell him what’s really on his mind.

“I’ll get over it, Shiro.” When he tries to protest, Lance interrupts him before he really even begins. “Just this once, can we not force me to talk about my issues?” He says it with a sardonic little smile that would normally have no place on his face. Shiro can’t help but acquiesce.

He nods, but refuses to leave it at that. “You know you can talk to me whenever, though. Especially if it has to do with me.”

Lance softens a bit. Shiro takes his victories where he can get them. “I know,” he says, getting up from his seat after a pause. “I’m going head to bed though, okay? It’s late. Goodnight.”

Shiro watches him go with hopes that Lance will come to him, when he’s ready.

 

Lance wakes up Saturday morning and immediately feels guilty about the night before.

He had stopped himself just in time from saying mean things to Shiro about his relationship with his brother, and while he’s glad he hadn’t uttered the words, he doesn’t know how to deal with the how tight his chest feels because of all this. The crying had helped, as it usually does, but he can’t help but feel like something is different this time. He’s usually so in touch with his feelings, but the loss of control he seems to be experiencing here is _doing something_ to him, he thinks. Lance doesn’t much like to think about his first time undercover, but it feels awfully similar to what he had gone through then.

Needless to say, he doesn’t like it.

It’s late morning now, though, and he’s trying to ignore it in favour of returning Shiro’s kindness from last night, which was also something he’d ruined by nearly having a breakdown in front of his favourite person in the world.

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other at their worst, either. Lance and Shiro have seen each other bruised and bloody, traumatized, and everything in between. It shouldn’t be such a big deal to talk about feeling with him, but for fuck’s sake Lance _loves_ the guy, he doesn’t need Shiro seeing him any worse than he already probably does.

_Stop_ , Lance sighs to himself. _You know he doesn’t think badly of you._

“You’re still here?”

The voice comes from behind him, and Lance barely restrains himself from jumping. Instead he turns with an apologetic smile on his face and full plate of breakfast in his hands. This time, he means it.

“I thought you knew me better than to think I’d walk out after a fight,” he says, hoping it comes off as teasing, as intended. “Besides, I wanted to say sorry, and this is the best way I know how.”

The sweetest smile dawns on Shiro’s face, and Lance’s heart skips a beat. “Lance,” he says, in _that_ tone, the one that makes Lance melt. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re allowed to be upset, especially about –”

Lance waves him off. “I know, I know. But I wanted to do something, so.” He hands over the plate, and Shiro takes it gratefully. “Plus!” he begins, eager to switch topics, “the sample came back earlier this morning with a full analysis. This breakfast is to celebrate the end of our monotony, too,” he says, swiping a piece of bacon from Shiro’s plate as he walks by to get the package he had left on the dining room table. Shiro’s laughing, and Lance revels in the normalcy for a minute. “You want to do the honours?”

Shiro nods excitedly in lieu of an answer, the tip of a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth. The package is sealed pretty tightly even though it’s supposed to be inconspicuous, so Shiro grabs a knife from the holder in the kitchen and makes swift work of the it. Inside is a couple sheets of paper detailing the analysis, as well as a petri dish with the substance in it carefully wrapped and sealed for their eyes only.

Lance reads over his shoulder, smile dropping further and further the more he reads.

“It’s… garbage?”

Lance murmurs, “Compositionally, at least.” There’s a pause, and then, “What does this mean?”

“Well…” Shiro pauses to sigh. “Thursday when I was doing some research I found out that this whole place is built on an old garbage dump.” While he says this, though, Shiro doesn’t look like he wants to believe it’s the answer.

Lance doesn’t quite like it either. “How did it get so high up on the wall, though?”

“Maybe the family tracked it in? Shook something with this stuff on it and it got stuck there, out of sight?”

Lance hums. “That is a pretty normal answer.”

He sees Shiro glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t sound convinced,” his partner says. Lance can hear the slow grin in his voice.

“Oh, shut up. Detective’s intuition.”

“Oh, then that couldn’t possibly be the answer then, huh? Your intuition’s never wrong.”

Lance slaps his arm and continues anyway. “It’s just… that doesn’t seem so plausible, you know? But at least this means it’s nothing _supernatural_.”

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Shiro says on a laugh. “There are tons of legends about garbage monsters so horrifying you couldn’t even fathom.”

“Yeah, yeah, monster boy. What do you really think of this, though?”

Shiro’s answer is pretty close to immediate. “I think we could really use Keith right about now.”

Lance’s spine goes rigid unintentionally, and he wills Shiro not to have noticed. If he did, he didn’t comment.

_Not now_ , Lance tells himself.

Lance doesn’t ask why, but Shiro continues anyway, oblivious to his partner’s thoughts. “I’m still convinced things here aren’t as they seem to be, and even though Keith is definitely wrong about golem thing, he’s good when he comes across things we’ve never seen before.”

He makes a noncommittal noise, pretending to look over the substance report a little more. “Too bad we have no way to get in touch with him,” Lance says. It’s mean, but it feels good to say, and Lance only feels a little bad.

He glances quickly at Shiro to make sure he wasn’t hurt by the comment either way. Nothing looks out of the ordinary there.

“If he calls again, I’ll be sure to ask his opinion. In the meantime, though, we should think about how to get information out of Hunk tomorrow, right?”

“Hunk?” Lance asks, but then his brain kicks into gear. “Oh! Oh, right, dinner.”

Shiro smiles. “So, you’re the husband that forgets all our dinner dates, huh?”

“ _No_ ,” Lance says immediately, with feeling. “If you’ll remember, I’ve had to cover for you at _every_ meeting we’ve ever had with Allura, since day one!”

“Those aren’t dinner parties,” Shiro sing-songs, walking to the kitchen to put his plate in the sink.

Lance watches his back, eyebrows practically in his hair line. “I’ve had to cover for you at those, too!”

“It’s not my fault cryptids have very bad timing.” Shiro retorts, sounding not all sorry for his poor punctuality.

“It is absolutely your fault,” Lance huffs. It’s all fake, he knows, but their teasing is normal, and Lance thrives off it. “What are we going to do about Hunk, then?”

“I mean, it shouldn’t be too difficult, right? You’re already, like, best friends with the guy. All we should have to do is some playful poking around.”

Lance likes the sound of best friends, even though it might be too early to say so. “Do we really need a plan? I’m better on the fly, anyway.”

“I suppose we’re not going to know what to ask or how to ask it until we get there,” Shiro relents. “And this ‘Pidge’ is an unknown, too.” He finishes with dishes and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Lance. “Winging it, it is. You have plans for today?”

“More research, I guess?” Lance suggests.

When Shiro nods, continuing from where Lance left off. “I might go on a walk around the neighbourhood, see if anyone knows anything about what kind of garbage was dumped here before they started building. Might help to at least know we’re not living in some radioactive wasteland, and we can compare it to the analysis if nothing else.”

“People always trust the hot neighbour on jog,” Lance says, sagely, before he can even register the words that come out of his mouth.

He forces down a blush when he realizes what he just said.

Shiro’s smirk is slightly confused, even as it’s almost blinding. “Aw, Lance thinks I’m hot.”

The man in question averts rolls his eyes to avoid looking at Shiro. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Already has,” Shiro says, still smiling. “You’ll do research from home today, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You sure you don’t want to jog with me? People might be more willing to talk to me if we’re in couple mode.”

Lance flushes for real this time, partly because of Shiro’s words, and partly because his brain supplied the words _I wish we were always in couple mode._

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he says, “Your version of jogging is my version of _sprinting_ , Shiro, so that’s a hard pass.”

Shiro laughs and says he’s going to go get ready, ruffling Lance’s hair as he walks by. As Lance watches him retreat up the stairs, he can’t help but notice that the tightness in his chest, while less than it had been, is still there.

 

Shiro’s jog goes well, at least in terms of exercise. He comes back more than an hour later, sweating and with a clear head. The few people he did run into had little information about what this land was before it became the complex, and even when they did have information, they kind of just repeated each other. He does feel a lot better, though, in a way that push ups and weights in the living room don’t usually make him feel.

Lance is on the couch when he walks through the door, and maybe it’s just his good mood talking but he thinks his partner’s eyes linger just a _little_ longer than they should.

He’s on his way to take a shower when there’s a knock on the door. It’s the first one since they’ve moved in, but he supposes it’s not too unusual in this kind of community. Probably a neighbour, or something. He hears Lance getting up from the couch and calls, “I’ve got it!”

He hums to himself as he walks back down the stairs to the main hallway. Through the windows at the sides of the door, he can see the shadow of the person standing there, as well as a backpack. In hindsight, that kind of looks like…

Shiro opens the door, eyes widening in shock, and exclaims, “ _Keith?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy Lance Day!!!!  
> so a couple things: i'm super sorry if this seems rushed, i definitely thinks it's below my usual standards, but i wanted to get something out for lance's birthday because he's extremely important to me and i love him w/ all my heart, just like shiro does.  
> i'm also sorry for how infrequent updates are! physics 2 is almost over so i'll aim to get chapter 5 out after that ends and i'm freed from hell.  
> as always, your comments and kudos literally keep me alive. ur all so sweet and i'm so glad u all seem to be enjoying such a self-indulgent plot line. u can find me on twitter @koukeijirou if u want, let me know if u see any errors or inconsistencies!  
> enjoy <3

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if there are any errors spotted that i've missed! hopefully i'll get this updated consistently but it's around midterms now so we'll see


End file.
